


Breaches Of Protocol (Nearly Always Lead To Dangerous Things)

by catherineisa



Category: Psych (TV 2006)
Genre: Altered canon, F/M, Gen, I can't help it lol, Kidnapping, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Several Dana Carvey References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catherineisa/pseuds/catherineisa
Summary: “Shawn! You know I don't like being snuck up on!” Shawn shrugs. “It's not my fault you squeal like a baby every time.”“You know it is Shawn.” Shawn smiles cartoonishly. “Is this about the Poltergeist thing? Oh man, let that go.”Shawn starts walking towards the door as if to end the conversation but Gus won’t let it go.“Let it go, Shawn? Let it go? I thought my room was haunted! Not funny!” Shawn laughs loudly as Gus unlocks the Blueberry, still complaining.
Relationships: Burton "Gus" Guster & Shawn Spencer, Burton "Gus" Guster/Juliet O'Hara, Carlton Lassiter/Shawn Spencer, Pre-Relationship c/s
Comments: 1
Kudos: 35





	Breaches Of Protocol (Nearly Always Lead To Dangerous Things)

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after Scary Sherry.  
> Clarification, Shawn has worked with them for a year and Lassiter's separation was two years before this tidbit.
> 
> I know Shawn drives a Norton but fuck it joe hill ref

Tuesday 6:01 AM

There's a slow low pitched hum as he opens his eyes, he's in a different place. He coughs heavily as he tries to gain his bearings. He squints, vision hazy. The room he's being held in is dark and his eyes still aren't adjusting. He feels the dried blood on his face crack as he moves. He's tied quite tightly to a chair that has been flipped over onto its side.

He coughs again and feels the stitch in his side. His ribs flare up and he feels himself become nauseous. He'd been kicked pretty hard in the ribs and he's sure if he were able to lift his shirt he'd see the print of the work boot imprinted in his flesh in various colors. He tries to control his breathing and will it away but he can't. He makes the decision to flip the chair, the pain in his arms reaching a zenith. He can't help but whimper as he tries to use all of his strength to try to flip the chair but he fails and falls flat. He feels his body weight as well as the weight of the wooden chair pressing into his arms, he tries to even out his breathing but finds with his arms tied behind back the way that they are that he can't fully expand his lungs to take any kind of relieving breath. He inhales weakly, trying to fight the urge to vomit, he thinks about how the only thing that would make the situation worse is if he were to die by choking on his own vomit. Spencer would probably never let it go. He tries not to think about the fact that Spencer and Guster are probably oblivious to his disappearance, playing some kind of game in their “psych” office.

His anger at the thought is enough to finally flip the chair but the sudden movement is enough to empty his stomach. The exertion is enough to make him pass out again.

Monday 8:12 AM

“No Shawn, no. You can't open a smoothie stand outside the Psych office. Besides the fact that it's 84 degrees, on the beach and you only want to sell pineapple smoothies. It's a bad business model.”

Shawn sips on his own pineapple smoothie and raises his finger, cutting Gus off mid-sentence.

"It is an amazing business model. Smoothies. Refreshing. Delicious. Point. Made. Check. Mate."

Gus gives him an irritated look but doesn't say anything further. He doesn't have the chance to say anything else anyways.

Shawn is all but prancing away from Gus towards Lassiter's desk. Lassiter is sitting at his desk focused on a case file and something on his computer. Shawn invites himself into Lassiter's workspace and sits on the edge of his desk still sipping his smoothie. The desk is strewn with case papers and Shawn can't help but glance them. He's caught of guard by the uncharacteristic mess, it looks more like the desk at the Psych office than any property of the detective's. Lassiter doesn't even look up from his file speaking lowly. There's no angry tone in his voice which surprises Gus, it's just a statement.

“Spencer. I don't have time for you today.”

Shawn raises his eyebrow at Gus, mouthing 'Does he ever?' Gus rolls his eyes and turns to find Juliet. He hopes Shawn can manage not to get murdered by the head detective.

“Aww. No Angry Lassiebear today?”

When Lassiter ignores him he just sits there drinking. He figures the man will acknowledge him eventually or maybe the slurping will get to him and he'll say something then. The moment never comes and Shawn figures he'll dial back his annoyances if only just a little.

Shawn is still perched on Lassiter's desk slurping his smoothie, he gets to the end of it and the other man, without looking up, reaches for the empty plastic cup. Shawn raises an eyebrow but hands it over, watching as the man tosses it into the can next to his desk. He glimpses the file briefly before deciding he was bored and pushing himself off of the desk. Just something about a woman being murdered, an old case, slips of paper. He makes rounds around the office, darting glances to and from the officers faces, none of them seem to notice his presence and he wonders if he'd be justified in flopping down on the floor and claiming a vision. He dismisses the thought, what would he say he saw?

He stops suddenly when he catches the figures of Gus and Juliet. They're talking in hushed voices, practically pushed up against the window sill. Gus has his hand wrapped lightly around Jules wrist, she seems to be keeping her hand there. He fiddles with one of the charms on the bracelet, a little flashlight, Shawn can also see a little gun charm from where he's standing. He smiles softly, pumping his fist in the air a bit. “Good on you, buddy.”

He decides to leave Gus alone for once in his life but also sees he left the keys to the Blueberry on Juliet's desk. He snatches them up before throwing them into the air and hooting. If Gus sees him he doesn't bother protesting.

Monday 11:12 AM

He looks at the clock on the coffee shop wall laughing lightly when he reads out the time. The woman standing behind him gives him a apprehensive look and he feels like he has to explain. “It's 11:12. I know it's a bit strange but it's always made me smile. Not sure why.” He's exactly sure why but he's not about to go off on someone in the line at Starbucks. She looks at the clock but by then the minute has passed and they're left awkwardly standing there. She's pretty but bland, brown hair and a generally neutral color palette and if he didn't remember everything he would probably forget her face as soon as he left the cafe.

Shawn has ordered an absurdly sweet drink and the woman makes a sour face just hearing all of the additions he's made on top of it. He leaves with his frothy mess of a drink and not even a hairsbreadth of him stepping through the door his phone rings. Incredibly loudly.

“Hello? Shawn Spencer. Oh Gus, hello old friend.” He chuckles and slurps some of the froth off of his drink. Gus complains about Shawn taking his car blah blah blah.

“Yeah no I'm headed back now, I got that coffee drink they refused to serve me in Chicago.” He hears Gus scoff and hang up.

Monday 11:35 AM

He struts into the police station with a half finished coffee and a fresh sugar high. He doesn't want to think about the crash that will eventually happen. He looks over to Lassiter's desk and finds it empty, the files and papers have been squared away and the desk is neat once again. He looks into The Chief's office and sees that she's back from her meeting, Shawn hadn't bothered learning the details, just the times she'd be out and back. He slurps his drink loudly and Vick looks up at him. She's already annoyed with him before he even opens his mouth.

“What is it, Spencer? We haven't called you in for a case.”

Shawn snaps his fingers, still slurping on his drink, he tilts his head up and Karen isn't sure if he's nodding or trying to swallow the drink.

“Exactly! You haven't called us in for at least a week.” Vick rolls her eyes. “Spencer it's only been four days.” Her tone is noncommittal and Spencer whines. She raises her eyebrow and he stops short. “Fine. I'll work on whatever Lassie is working on.” Karen sighs curtly and Shawn tilts his head.

“Detective Lassiter is out of the office right now. He's following up on a new lead from a cold case. You can consult him on it.” Shawn pumps his fist in the air and hoots. She continues. “When he gets back.” 

He spins in Lassiter's chair for about thirty minutes before getting bored. He goes off to find Buzz but even he is too busy for Shawn.

It's an hour later when Shawn decides to go back to the Psych office. He finds Gus and Juliet at Jules desk still talking about whatever assault case Juliet has been working on. Shawn thinks 'Hey they can't all be murder cases can they?' and then wonders if Henry's paternal style had desensitized him too much to murder. He thinks briefly how Henry messed him up in a lot of ways. He shakes away the thought and grabs Gus by the arm, startling him. He lets out a shrill scream which causes everyone to stop and look. He looks around sheepishly as Juliet giggles uncontrollably.

“Shawn! You know I don't like being snuck up on!” Shawn shrugs. “It's not my fault you squeal like a baby every time.” Gus purses his lips angrily.

“You know it is Shawn.” Shawn smiles cartoonishly. “Is this about the Poltergeist thing? Oh man, let that go.”

Shawn starts walking towards the door as if to end the conversation but Gus won't give up on it, waving briefly to Jules before tailing Shawn.

“Let it go Shawn? Let it go? I thought my room was haunted! Not funny!” Shawn laughs loudly as Gus unlocks the Blueberry, still complaining.

Monday 2:57 PM

Shawn wakes up from his nap with a note attached to his forehead.

'Went to work. You know? My real job.'

He rolls his eyes at his friends sarcasm and balls up the note, tossing it in the direction of the trashcan basketball hoop and missing the trash altogether. He sits up slowly, cracking his back, he thinks it must not be healthy but he can't help but be satisfied by it. He looks at the clock and sees he slept longer than he ever meant to. He checks the timer on his phone and finds that he never pressed start. He groans and stands up, popping more joints. He heads into the space behind the office and uncovers his bike. He hadn't ridden it much since Lassie had procured it for him. He didn't want to give his father something to gloat about. He'd needed help to get his bike back and even though Henry hadn't gotten the chance to give that help, he still figured his father would hold it against him somehow. He's just that kind of man.

He wrenches the bike from it's spot, pulling the plastic tarp off of it. The bike is Joe Hill's dream, a black polished Triumph. He'd bought it as an affront to his father when he'd moved out, it was beaten to shit when he'd purchased it and the owner had lost hope for it. Which made it dirt cheap. He'd fixed it with the skills his father had taught him and repainted it. It took about a year to restore but he'd always been so proud of it. Now it was gathering dust under a tarp. He'd been driving The Blueberry instead of his Triumph and he felt guilty thinking about it. His pride and joy had been reduced nearly to junk. He pulled it by the handlebars through the Psych office. Gus would kill him if he'd known he had but what Gus doesn't know won't hurt him. He grabs a pineapple on the way out and starts the engine. The old familiar roar guiding him down the street to the SBPD. Eye Of The Tiger playing in his head.

Monday 3:17 PM

It doesn't take him long to reach the building and park. He notices Lassiter's car isn't in it's spot still. Shawn briefly wonders if Lassies car was stolen again and he's covering. He dismisses the thought, one in a million chance. He finds an actual motorcycle spot to park in and cuts the engine. He carries the pineapple carefully under his arm in the crook of his elbow.

He runs into McNab on his way into the police station. “Hey, Shawn. Hey, pineapple?” He smiles bemused and shakes his head. “Hey, Buzz. Anything interesting?”

Buzz shrugs his shoulders. “Not really. I'm going home to Francine. Juliet solved that assault case, it was a jealous ex-girlfriend. Lassiter might've solved a two-year-old cold case but I haven't seen him since this morning.”

Shawn nodded, that was probably the case Chief Vick had been referring to. He waves Buzz off and the tall man whistles cheerfully as he makes his way to his car.

Monday 3:23 PM

Chief Vick is speaking with a beat cop in her office when Shawn approaches, he stops briefly at Juliet's desk. The lack of a case now grating on his nerves. He's sure there's something anything and he's bored. Juliet looks up at him, smiling. She waves the manila case folder near his face, charm bracelet jingling lightly. “I had a hunch and it payed off.” Her excitement makes him smile softly but he's anxious for the officer to finish up whatever conversation is being had. Juliet senses his preoccupation but it doesn't damper her joy. “You'll get an interesting case sometime. You always seem to.”

He nods briefly. The officer is turning to leave and he gears up to walk straight in. Instead The Chief walks out to him.

“Spencer I thought I told you to coordinate with Lassiter on the Tellman case?”

Shawn tilts his head ever so slightly.

“I haven't been able to find him. Do you have the case file?” Vick shakes her head no.

“Lassiter must have the hard copy but the file should've been digitized so you can look on his computer. I have a workplace appropriateness meeting to go to.” She raises her hands in exasperation.

Shawn swerves around the detectives walking around and makes his way to Lassiter's desk for the second time that day. He switches on the monitor and is immediately greeted by the case file that Lassie had been poring over earlier in the day.

35-year-old Lillian Mcbrae bludgeoned in her own house. One of the upstairs windows were jimmied and they found a boot print on the garden trellis leading up.

Shawn grabs a pencil and jots down 'chicken wings/hot' on a nearby post it note before continuing.

She seemed to have been murdered with an ornamental deer statue she'd had in her living room. Her dog had been found strangled in the kitchen and thrown in the trash. The contents of the trash sans dog had been bagged and tagged. Little receipts and food wrappers as well as a piece of glass.

The original suspect was the next door neighbor because he had found her body, but he was out of town at his mothers funeral the week of the murder. He gave a statement that he'd noticed newspapers had been piling up at her door but her car was still in the driveway. He'd knocked and when he received no answer he'd called the police. The sister had said she was excited about a project, something about old family negatives. The sister had showed them then recent photos of them in her house which Shawn noticed picture frames sitting everywhere waiting to be hung. Her and her sister smiling broadly in the photo, stuck in that moment, unsuspecting of the upcoming grief.

Shawn took a break to stretch but noticed something out of the corner of his eye on the file. There was a smudge on one of the picture frames and as he looked at the photos more closely he realized that none of the picture frames on the shelf had photos in them but one. Some of the frames hanging on the wall were missing and some of them had been put back up without their photos. The victim wasn't in the remaining photo, if he had to guess it was a picture of her parents.

He had it.

“Jules! Jules!” He was shouting very loudly but almost no one paid him any mind.

Juliet walked over, heels clicking rhythmically on the tile floors. “What is it Shawn?” Her voice had a tone like a nanny would if a kid was showing them a drawing for the millionth time. He wasn't deterred.

“I got a vibration from the file! I know how it might be connected. I don't know what Lassiekins saw in it but..” He trailed off as Juliet rolled her eye but jerking back into focus. “Right the woman Lillian Mcbrae she had all of these slips, uh receipts in the trash for a photo development place, in the statement the sister said Lillian was excited for a project and was collecting old pictures of her family for keepsakes. She would frequent a 24 hour photo place in the last six months before her death but no one talked to the owner about her.” He realized that he was talking too seriously about it like a real detective would so he threw himself out of Lassiter's chair with a light fainting noise.

He could practically hear the gears in Juliet's head turning.

“That might've been what Lassiter saw. Come on. He might still be there.”

Shawn pulled himself up with the desk and followed Juliet out the door, she had a determined stride and Shawn had to sprint to catch up with her.

Monday 5:42 PM

The car ride is too long for his care and he starts fidgeting, he decides to quickly call Gus. He positions himself to his left side and Juliet shoots him a furtive glance as he slips his phone from his right pocket and flips it open. He dials the number and hears it ring twice before Gus eventually picks up.

“Hello I'd like to order a pizza. I'd say I'll have special two but add pineapple on top and be generous with it.” He stops to listen to other side of the call. He hears Gus's exasperated sigh and grins.

“Shawn. You know I'm working, right? Prank calling me isn't going to make me drop everything and flock to you this time.”

“I didn't think it would. Listen me and Juliet are going on a quest to find Lasszilla is there anything you'd like to say to either of us?” He levels it like an accusation or an assumption and Gus is quiet for a moment before he just states “Stay safe. Both of you.”

“Oh Gus that tickles me in my naughty area, you always know what to say.” Gus huffs and hangs up on him. Juliet casts him a curious look for a second before returning her eyes to the road. Her bracelet dangles, hitting the steering wheel.

“What was that about?”

“Gus told us to stay safe.” Juliet laughs loudly. “And that warranted that response? I do not get you sometimes Shawn Spencer.” The car is silent again after that except for the rhythmic sound of the tires on the pavement.

He reaches over to turn on the radio, stopping short to see if Juliet would stop him. She spares him a glance but otherwise doesn't say anything. He presses in the dial turning on the radio, it fizzles for a second before coming in clearly, a Duran Duran song chimes through the radio and he smiles to himself.

Monday 2:51 PM

Lassiter arrives at the storage facility going through security to access the bankers boxes of evidence that were all that was left of the case. Lassiter had worked the case when it was new, they'd thought it was open and shut and then the leads dried up. It'd been a blow to Lassiter's pride that he couldn't solve it and had eventually driven the last wedge between him and Victoria. He grunts angrily thinking about it, still convinced if Victoria had put in even half of the effort he did they might've survived it. He grumbles, muttering to himself.

He picks up the plastic bag with the contents of the kitchen trash in it and notices something. Two years ago when he was originally working the case Lucinda had insisted that the trash was somehow important. All it was though was receipts to some photo developer. Lassiter grips the edge of the box as he realizes they never ended up following up on the lead. He grasps at the witness statements in the box and hastily flips through them, the sister had been distraught, he'd been put off by her tears, trying to stay a safe distance from the splatter zone. Lucinda had been annoyed with him afterwards calling him out for being insensitive. She'd been helpful though, giving them a name and a date. He wrenches the paper from the bottom of the box triumphantly. His smile drops when he sees the state of the paper. The address is for the most part legible but where the name was written the paper had gotten soaked and was unintelligible.

Monday 3:47 PM

Lassiter parks his car outside of the listed address and double checks before stepping out of the car. His brow furrows as he looks up at the old building. It seems out of place, It all screams Amityville to him. The white house is marred by green moss growing up the side. There are concrete steps leading up to an open front door and Lassiter isn't a superstitious person but he unclasps his holster as he steps up the stairs. There's a staircase leading up to a second level which is barricaded by a simple rope and a white sign that says 'off limits'. He tilts his head to quickly glance up before continuing. He hears a clatter to his left and spots an old woman picking up a platter. He moves his hand away from his holster but doesn't reclasp it.

“Hello. Is this 'Speedy Development'?” The old woman places the platter in a cupboard and turns towards him. She's a fair bit shorter than him with curly shoulder length white hair.

“Oh yes it is, I'm Enid Penland, I used to run it with my husband but he passed about a year ago. Haven't had too many customers recently. Come in, come in.” She ushers him in excitedly.

“Do you have a canister you want developed or a camera to fix? Or are you simply looking to buy a camera?”

She peers up at him and he debates going with it. He figures the best way is straightforward.

“Uh no not today. I'm looking for information on a woman.” The woman looks confused, he clarifies. “I'm Detective Carlton Lassiter with the Santa Barbara Police Department and I've reopened a case into the murder of Lillian Mcbrae.” He fumbles in his pocket pulling out a crumpled photo of the victim.

The old woman's face softens.

“Oh dear. I remember this! I had come to know her when I helped her boss make prints of his employees for some kind of company retreat, well I don't remember exactly but Lillian was really excited to see how the photos had come out because she had taken some of them.” Ms. Penland sits down gesturing for him to do the same across from her.

“She expressed some interest in doing a family project, having old canisters developed and negatives printed. I had one of my employees deliver the work photos and option sheets for her to look at.”

She smooths out the crumpled photo on her thigh and looks up at Detective Lassiter. “Detective Lassiter, If it's not too much trouble could I keep this picture?” Lassiter gives her a sympathetic look and just nods. He tries not to seem abrasive as he continues questioning her. “This employee. Would you happen to have contact information for him, a name? Address?” He's hopeful.

“I have a name but I don't think I still have an address. He quit a week or so after Lillian died. I was never sure why, my husband never liked him though said he was skeevy. That's the word he used. His name was Robert Grady, unsettling man he was.” She mutters to herself looking down at the photo. She gets up and rifles through a vanity console that's pressed up against the wall behind Lassiter. She brings something around and hands it to Lassiter, it turns out to be a photo.

A man standing with Enid and a man Lassiter assumes is her husband. The couple is smiling with their arms around each other but the other man, Robert Grady is unsmiling, standing away from the two. He's taller than the two by a good stretch only he's hunched over into himself.

“He only worked for us for about.” She stops for a second as if trying to calculate the dates. She stutters for a second. “It was around the time we developed the retreat photos up until just after she died.” Ms. Penland shook her head softly, looking at the photo.

When the interview is over Lassiter asks if he can use her restroom. “The one on this floor is a sty right now. So you'll have to use the one upstairs, it's the second door on the right.” She smiles sheepishly and he assures her it's fine. He moves the rope on the stairs aside and steps carefully up the stairs being careful to avoid creaking. Second door on the left and Lassiter turns the doorknob to find a very pink bathroom. Everything from the curtains to the rugs is a spectrum of pink and it reminds Lassiter of Victoria's need of every room to match, except for the fact that Victoria had never been one for bright colors in décor. He tries not to think about his ex wife as he does his business and looks himself over in the mirror. He pulls the notebook out of his jacket pocket and goes over what he's learned before getting preoccupied with his appearance. He looks haggard, like he hasn't slept in a week or so. The truth isn't so far off however, He'd been thinking so much about the second anniversary of his split that he'd had trouble sleeping. He'd been throwing himself into work even more than usual recently. Part of him knows it's not sustainable and part of him just wants to forget. He splashes himself with water and checks his watch. It'd only been five minutes.

Lassiter all but hops down the stairs on his way down and he was right the first time, they do creak.

Lassiter thanks her for her time and apologizes for her losses. He takes the photo of the possible suspect with him and makes a lame joke about how he'll consider it a trade. He thinks about Lucinda as he leaves, she would have comforted the old woman in a way that he just doesn't think he knows how to.

Monday 5:21 PM

It takes Lassiter a good chunk of time to find Robert Grady, his computer is slow and the departmentally issued wireless access point is acting up. He wants to chuck it out of his car window and shoot several holes in it but he knows it won't do him any good and he'd probably have to fill out paperwork. Battling with the slow computer finally pays off when he gets an address. He debates calling for backup but eventually comes to the conclusion that it's just a routine questioning and he can do it on his own, plus being Spencer free for an extended amount of time is something he often looks forward to and rarely gets. He imagines the psychic slinking into The Chief's office all confidence and hair gel with his fingers up to his temples, shaking around. He scoffs loudly to himself and turns his key in the ignition trying not to think about how maybe if Shawn were there in the interview he would've gleaned something. He firmly doesn't believe the man is a psychic but he can't deny the man always gets it in the end.

Monday 6:10 PM

His annoyance at the thoughts of Spencer as he's driving is persistent but as he pulls up to the possible suspects house he lets it go, even if just for a moment. The house is small and run-down. The property is obscured by overgrown trees and hedges and Lassiter doesn't have a good feeling about it. Nevertheless he presses on, a stupid little thought in the back of his mind says it's what the idiot would do.

He thinks about Lucinda again as he's stepping through the leaves on the lawn. She always loved to crunch them under her feet, he can visualize her walking next to him crunching the leaves and smiling to herself. He feels himself missing her.

He straightens his clothes and raps his knuckles three times on the door. He hears a shuffling from inside and thoroughly considers taking his gun out of his holster. He doesn't feel right about his decision to come alone anymore but by the time he can turn around to call dispatch the door has opened.

The door opens and he's greeted by the man from the photo in his pocket. He's not as well kempt as he was in the photo and his glasses, in spite of the fact that they are the same blue pair from the photo they are broken on the left side held by what looks like super glue and a small rubber band. He decides to just introduce himself anyways and try to question him despite the alarm bells blaring through his mind.

“I'm detective Carlton Lassiter with the Santa Barbara Police Department and I'm here to ask you a couple questions about Lillian McBrae.”

The man's face doesn't indicate any tells and Carlton continues. “Can I come in?” Grady moves to the side and gestures broadly for Lassiter to come in. Lassiter doesn't let the man linger behind him for long, he turns to face the man and he narrows his eyes. “Would you like something to drink? Mr. Lassifer.” Lassiter winces at the slight as he quickly corrects the man and accepts the drink. He doesn't plan on drinking it but it could give him time to look around. Grady walks to the kitchen, boots padding heavily on the floor of the old house. He looks around at the mess of the small house and starts to glance around. Grady comes back in a seemingly record amount of time with two glasses, he sets one of the the glasses on the table on top of a stack of papers in front of the detective. He doesn't move them or put a coaster down and suddenly Lassiter is even more uncomfortable.

“So, Mr. Grady. Did you know Ms. McBrae?” Grady shrugs taking a drink from his own glass, the drink looks to be lemonade but he's not 100%, he's seen enough weird shit to not be so surprised at alternatives.

“Not really. I used to work at a photo place. I delivered the prints to the office she worked in. I didn't work there for very long though, Mr. Penland made me feel unwelcome and frankly uncomfortable so I left.” He's rubbing his thighs with his palms in a pattern that Lassiter takes to mean nervousness.

Lassiter nods slowly not bothering to write it down, he attempts to go through the motions and finds his notebook is no longer in his pocket. He's more inclined to believe Enid Penland than Robert Grady in any case, his gut tells him there's something off. “Is it true you left a week or so after Ms. McBrae died?” Grady shrugs again looking more ill at ease with each passing second. He stands suddenly, snapping his fingers. “I uh forgot ice cubes. I'll be back.” He steps backwards into the kitchen before doing a 180.

He hears what sounds like a freezer open and some shuffling and he moves to look through the papers strewn across nearly every surface in the room. He opens a drawer from a desk shoved partially against the wall and sees only documents and photos. He opens another drawer and through a stack of documents sees something familiar out of the corner of his eye, he reaches to grab it when he hears a creak behind him. He turns just in time to see something heavy coming down on him. He crumples to the ground still holding the photo in his hand. Grady reaches over him and plucks it from his grasp.

“Oh detective I really wish you wouldn't have seen that.”

Monday 6:55 PM

Shawn is twisted all the way towards the window with his mouth wide open, asleep. Juliet shakes his shoulder lightly causing him to jerk forward nearly hitting the dashboard. “I'm up! I'm up I swear.” Juliet gives him a look that says 'Are you serious?' but doesn't say anything about it. She makes a mental note to ask Gus if he always does that. His hair is askew in a way that he definitely doesn't like, with part of it completely flat on his head. He runs his hands through his hair in the mirror while Juliet checks her notes. “This is the place. Although we don't even know if this is what Lassiter saw in that case file.”

She stops and flips open her phone. She holds it up to her ear curtly whispering “Chief.”

She listens for a second before her face scrunches in confusion. “But Lassiter wasn't working on the Tellman case.” Another pause. “Shawn re-accessed the file from his computer, the last file he accessed was the McBrae file.” Her frown deepens as she continues to listen. Shawn doesn't like not knowing what's going on, not actually being a psychic really works against him sometimes.

Juliet hangs up the phone and turns back to Shawn. “Lassiter wasn't working on the case Vick assigned him. He's working a case he was assigned two years ago. I don't get it, Lassiter is always stuck to protocol why would he reopen this case?”

Shawn looks up to the building and feels something wrench in his gut. The possibility that they won't be able to find Lassiter startles him more than he ever thought it would.

He claps his hands together. “Only one way to find out.” He jogs up to the front door and knocks. The wind runs through him and he shivers slightly wishing he'd brought some kind of jacket. Gus probably would've made him if he was there. The thought is cut off as an old woman swings the door open. She's smiling in that old lady way and Shawn can't help but be warmed by it.

“Hello I'm [Lane Maxwell](https://64.media.tumblr.com/64597ff72c12c69d315665bd316340c2/82f1c865c451b2e3-4a/s540x810/0ac4e3a30a5734bfcbb68cfdb1c79cd7c2c469c7.png), professional psychic and this is my associate Marge Keister. We are here to ask you a couple questions.” He catches something out of the corner of his eye. A picture frame, out of order with the others, more recent, a crumpled photo of the victim smiling brightly, flattened into the frame as much as it will go. He draws in a sharp breath nearly doubling over. His eyes are closed as he reaches out for the woman, luckily she immediately grasps his hand.

“I sense, a man. He's tall, salt and pepper in a sexy way and predisposed to aggression. He's given you something. Something.” He lets go of the woman's hands and throws himself onto the door jamb. He breathes heavily. “It's crumbled, I can't see it very well. A woman, she's beautiful but there's a sadness to her spirit.”

Juliet reaches out to drag him up. He accepts her hand and she pulls him onto his feet. “Thank you.”

The old woman looks like she's just seen something fantastical. “Oh my dear, yes but the man I met was a kind man.” Shawn furrows his brow.

“He did give me something though. A photo of sweet Lillian.” Her smile turns sad. “What happened to her was troubling yes. She was murdered.” Shawn gasps lightly clutching his head, his eyes flutter closed again and Juliet has to grasp him to keep him from falling again. He doesn't let it get that far though, eyes opening suddenly. “He asked you something, about... a victim, and someone familiar.” He pretends to struggle a bit. He whimpers and presses his finger further into his temple hunching over. “Yes he asked me about Lillian and an employee we had before she died. Robert Grady.”

Juliet opens her phone and dials a number walking away. “I need an address for a Robert Grady.”

They talk about Lassiter and Grady for a couple of minutes and they go over everything she and Lassiter talked about.

Shawn straightens his posture and thanks her. “Thank you. Your husband loves you very much and says that Toto is with him.” She gasps and all but yanks him into a hug, laughing and nearly crying. “Thank you Mr. Maxwell. God bless you and your soul.”

He turns to walk away but the woman stops him. “Oh dear Mister Maxwell. In this hubbub I almost forgot.” She gestures plainly for him to wait, shuffling into the next room and returning with a small leather-bound notebook in her hand. Shawn recognizes it immediately. The crinkled and worn pages and binding of the detective's most recent case journal. In any other circumstance he'd be delighted to finally see the contents of the book which Lassiter had always shoved in his pocket. It doesn't feel right now, his stomach turns. He thanks her shortly.

He departs from her and catches up to Juliet. “Hey Jules, wadduhyagot.” The words are pressed together in a way that Gus always hated 'Shawn! If you're going to say something say it right, I can't believe you sometimes.'

“According to the computer records the last file he accessed was also Robert Grady's address, but the GPS track on his car cut out about twenty miles from it so we have no idea if he's there.” Juliet looks more worried and Shawn can't think of a way to console her because he can't help but think of all the negative outcomes.

Shawn's brain lets him down and he thinks 'What if he's already dead?' He shakes his head and remembers something his father said once. 'If you start chewing over all of the things that can go wrong in an investigation. you are already losing kiddo.”

Monday 7:43 PM

It takes less than an hour to get there with the speed Juliet is going. She stops just short of the house and cuts the engine. Shawn notices tire treads that are a closer match to Lassiter's tires than the junker sat on the lawn. He raises his finger to his temple. “He was here. My senses are muddled but I feel he was here.” He doesn't have enough evidence to say anything further. He notices that some of the leaves are disturbed in an odd way but Shawn doesn't dwell on it for too long before the front door opens and a man steps out. “Can I help you?” Juliet smiles her best fake polite smile and strides up towards the man.

“Yes. We're here to follow up on an interview for a case on Lillian McBrae.” Shawn notices that the man's glasses are broken but they weren't broken recently. He assesses the man and sees that he's dressed down, wearing only a tee shirt and jeans as well as a bandage on his hand.

Shawn breathes haltingly as he notices there's blood on the hem of the man's shirt. Grady notices that Shawn is scrutinizing him and looks down catching it too.

“I cut my hand on a paint scraper. I was going to repaint the porch but it's all cracked.” He gestures broadly with his bandaged hand and Shawn makes a show of looking around.

“Could we come in? We just have a couple of questions.” Juliet doesn't want to let on that she's not entirely there for the good of the case.

Shawn can tell the man is apprehensive but he still lets them in. Shawn immediately takes in the mess of the living room. He's not sure if there was a struggle, a hurricane, or if the room is just that messy. Shawn notices two separate condensation rings on the papers strewn on the table. The man offers drinks and Shawn immediately refuses, He apologizes to keep up appearances, fudging something about a long drive and no stops.

Juliet takes his cue and also says no, although not in the same abrasive manner.

“So what do you folks need?” He's fiddling with the bandage with his thumb and forefinger but stops when he notices Shawn watching him.

“We were wondering if another detective came by. Someone by the name of Lassiter.” Juliet drops any pretense of the case, Shawn glances out of the corner of his eye, wondering briefly if she has a plan.

“No one by that name, I don't get many visitors anyways.”

“All right. Like I said we're here to follow up.”

Shawn doesn't believe him, he hopes Juliet doesn't either. He looks around the room while Grady is preoccupied with the questioning, it's devolved back into questions about the case. He notices the dust patterns are disturbed on a small area of one of the larger stacks of papers and some of them have fallen on the floor. He looks back to Grady but he doesn't seem to notice his snooping. There are droplets of blood on the floor and a photo slipped just under the furniture piece. A picture of the victim, blood spattered on it and slightly torn but still recognizable.

Shawn pretends to answer his phone. “Buzz buzz. got to start telling people I'm busy.” He makes a goofy face and flips it open like Kirk would. He stands up, turning slightly on his heel. Juliet looks at him curiously. “Oh hey neighbor, long time no talky. Oh oh. I'll be right there.” The man's face is visibly relieved and Jules still just looks confused. He grabs her arm urgently. “I'm terribly sorry sir. My son set something on fire again, I have got to go diffuse that situation. We'll follow up on this later I'm sure.” He doesn't look as relieved anymore.

They make their hasty exit and when they get to the car she whispers harshly at him. “What was that all about? Your son?”

“I needed an excuse and it was the excuse my dad always used. He said Lassiter wasn't here but I think he was, and I think the blood droplets were his.” Shawn suddenly feels like someone has dropped a stone on his chest.

Monday 6:30 PM

Lassiter's eyes flutter open to Grady dragging him by his ankles across the leaves and grass. He notices the overwhelmingly bright colors of the sky and closes them again. He feels his legs drop against the ground and hears a lock click and the sound of metal cracking on cement. A root cellar. He doesn't have a hopeful outlook.

Lassiter goes over the decisions he's made in the last year. Hell not even just the last year, he's made his bed and he's currently laying in it (physically and metaphorically). After every case when Spencer, Guster and O'Hara celebrate the solve he always just goes home. When he'd tried to connect with his co-workers they'd looked at him like he was extraterrestrial and he'd given up.

He feels himself being wrenched up by his torso and dragged down into the root cellar. He's dropped into the corner of the room and he opens his eyes again. He takes in his surrounding but the sharp stabbing in his skull makes him wonder what it'd feel like to get a lobotomy. He sees the suspect standing above him and his arms shoot out under him. His arm is cut by something on the ground over it and without thinking he grabs it and swings upwards. The taller man throws his hand out in front of himself and gasps jaggedly when Lassiter's blind swiping ends up connecting with his hand. He grumbles loudly and stomps Lassiter in the ribs with his shoe. He grasps at the jagged shard, taking it from Lassiter and kicking him again.

Lassiter loses consciousness soon after.

Monday 7:07 PM

Juliet's driving has sped up in the couple minutes it takes for Shawn to explain his 'vision' to her. When he finishes she turns her siren on and has Shawn dial Chief Vick.

Shawn has a sinking feeling that Lassiter never left the man's house. He doesn't know how but it makes him queasy.

Monday 8:12 PM

Chief Vick is pacing in her office when they arrive. Her eyes widen when she sees them and Gus is sitting in one of the chairs. His hands are folded in his lap and he's painted with worry.

“What the hell is going on?” Vick throws her hands up in exasperation or fear Shawn can't tell. She's on edge, but that seems to be the general office vibe from what he can tell. He spots an Expo board from outside the window that several detectives are hovering around.

“You told me there was a possibility that Lassiter was missing. He shouldn't have been working that case so what psychic vision gleaned that to you.” She's speaking fast and getting closer. Too close for comfort, he can tell she's cracking. She'd lost two officers this year and possibly losing another would be too much.

Shawn figures they're all a lot closer to Carlton than they each might've thought. He explains what he can.

Monday 8:32 PM

“How far are we on the warrant?” Juliet is pacing in front of Gus who stopped trying to rationalize everything ten minutes previous and is now just sitting despondent in the chair across from The Chiefs desk.

“No. Most of the judges in the county have gone home and care more about their own time. Plus Lassiter has pissed off a fair amount of judges. They're saying it might be tomorrow morning. At least.”

Shawn rubs his hands on his thighs nervously, images of all of the worst possible situations flashing through his mind.

“Time for alternative methods.” He slaps his thighs loudly and stands up.

Chief Vick who had had her hands clasped tightly under her chin also stands up from behind her desk urgently. “Mister Spencer no!” She's got a matronly tone and for a second Shawn almost backs down.

“We can't have anyone in this department doing anything illegal. I don't know what you're planning to do Mister Spencer but I don't think it will do any good to get us all suspended and reviewed.”

“If no one knows what I might be planning to do then no one else is liable.” Gus mulls it over in his head and stands up but Shawn touches his shoulder lightly. “Not this time buddy. I always drag you into messes and if this goes wrong only one of us should go to jail.”

Gus is taken aback but doesn't move further. “Jail. Who said anything about jail?”

Vick shakes her head. “For legal reasons I didn't hear any of that but” She pauses and exhales heavily, looking down at her desk. “Good luck Mister Spencer.”

Monday 10:47 PM

Shawn doesn't bother with skulking around and flips his motorcycle onto Judge Carson's lawn. He jumps over a hedge and knocks on the door. He doesn't worry about anyone else opening the door because Carson's wife died six years previous. He does research on important people just in case he has to have a “Vision”.

He knocks harshly on the door and feels the pang in his knuckles. Three minutes pass and he knocks incessantly on the door. He hears the man grumble behind the door and he relents slightly. The door opens and Shawn pushes past it, grasping the edges of the mans robe and pushing him back into the wall of the hallway.

“Hello Judge Carson. I need you to do something for me. You see you were sent a warrant for a property search.” He sticks his finger in the mans face, loosening his grip on the cloth. “Now this is important because someone that may or may not be a friend of mine might be held there.”

The judge growls at him. “Why the hell would I sign anything for you?” His voice is cracked from sleep and possibly fear which makes the growl fall short on Shawn's ears and only serves to make him angrier.

“Because I know what you did to that doctor. Bishop was it? St. Claire's and _heavy_ medication? Am I hitting on something here?” Shawn lets him go when he knows he's made his point. The judge smooths out his robe as if trying to remain some of his dignity.

“How do you know about that? No one knew about that. He, he was a danger it was the right thing to do.” Shawn doesn't care about the older mans justifications.

“So what about it?” The man doesn't meet his eyes. “Fine. Fine, I'll sign the warrant. Just get off my property.”

Monday 10:03 PM

Lassiter opens his eyes to a bright light in his face and Grady tying his wrists behind him. A bright bulb hangs from the ceiling and with every movement Lassiter can feel the shards of glass dig into his back and his side. There's no relief when Grady hoists him up. He tries to speak to tell the man he knows what he's done that someone will come for him but it comes out incoherent and even he starts to doubt the latter. He thinks, _even if they do come, I'll probably be dead by then._

He feels lightheaded but doesn't fail to notice he's being hoisted up the stairs. He's got to hand it to him Robert Grady is a lot stronger than he looks. He thinks about his close associates, Lucinda, and begrudgingly Victoria. The Alice Bundy case was the first time he really realized he was missing out on something, he hadn't made any effort to change it though. If he had enough strength to he would've laughed. This is his own damn fault.

He's dropped onto the bed of a truck and Grady fumbles a bit with his pocket. “Almost forgot.” He's talking more to himself than Lassiter at that point though. His hand clasps over Lassiter's mouth and there's something in it, pills. Whatever it is Guster would probably be able to identify it but he doesn't have that advantage right now. He knows whatever it is isn't good. He doesn't have the capacity for fighting it off and when the man pinches his nose he makes a decision and swallows them. Whatever hope he had left is fading fast as the capsules scratch their way down his throat, dry and aching.

His eyelids are heavy and he decides he'll chance falling asleep. It's not like he has any other choice as he feels his limbs grow heavier. He's covered with a heavy tarp as his eye close once again.

Tuesday 1:00 AM

The police raid the property on the technical next day. Chief Vick had answered her phone only to be informed by Judge Henry Carson that the warrant would be faxed over and they could begin to move. She'd been relieved. As she sits in the van she's can't help but be curious how he had pulled it off. Whatever it had been she couldn't know about it but she was grateful.

The property is relatively quiet as the SWAT men clear it. Shawn doesn't have a good feeling about it and when the team announces the property is clear he looks to the Chief for direction. She looks back to him and he can't read her expression.

“Everyone here needs to watch their step. We need to process this like we would an actual crime.” She turns to the man that Shawn guesses is in charge and says something she doesn't quite catch. Shawn is rifling through papers. There's nothing of any use to him and he throws them to the side. He jerks the drawer open and shoves his hand into it pricking his finger nearly immediately. Without thought he recoils, a moment later noticing his blood splattered onto older dried blood. He gestures for The Chief and she hurries toward him. “What is it Mister Spencer?”

He doesn't bother with theatrics. “This drawer, there's blood on the floor and the outside of this dresser but look. Here inside. I know Lassiter was here but I think he saw something.” He stops short of finishing his sentence and shuffles the drawer again, there are photos strewn throughout and he bends over to pick up the earlier photo. Putting them next to each other he continues. “He wasn't supposed to see it. The photos Grady took from Lillian McBrae's house.” He drops down, laying all but completely on the floor. He gestures for the flashlight, he knows Vick has in her pocket. “Light. Please.” He reaches behind him again and feels the cold metal against his skin. He clicks it on and flashes it under the furniture console seeing nothing he slides on his stomach to the next one. Catching a glimpse of yellow plastic behind the photo. He reaches his arm under it he grasps at it, inching it out until he can finally pick it up. He holds it up and he can see the emotions running through everybody's eyes.

Chief Vick raises her voice at everyone still remaining in the room, the couple of remaining cops stuck around for their safety. “We need those crime techs here now.”

He stares at the object in his hand. A bright novelty pineapple pen, Shawn had given it to Lassiter more as a joke on Christmas but Lassiter had ended up liking the way it wrote. Figures.

He shoves it in his pocket when he catches Gus's worried look. “Shawn.” He raises his hand, cutting him off. Gus purses his lips, stopping himself short of whatever lecture he was planning to give.

“I need to look around.” He inhales heavily, trying to ground himself. Working a kidnap or a murder is much easier when you don't know the victim. He can't separate himself from it this time.

He walks out of the front door. Noticing the blood from earlier, he flashes the light at the trail of droplets but it seems to stop shortly after Shawn leaves the porch. He walks around the house and the night is only slightly cut by the beam of the light. He's unnerved by the darkness and doesn't quite like the sound of the night life. All the same he makes his way around the side of the house, noticing an old root cellar. The look is unlocked and tossed to the side. He doesn't bother picking it up as he pops the flashlight in his mouth (hoping briefly that Chief doesn't dress him down on it) He uses both hands to pull the heavy door open and hopes dearly to see the taller, more abrasive detective sitting there, minorly scuffed but otherwise okay.

No such luck. He peers into the cellar, casting the thin line of light onto the floor. There's no one there.

He steps over the ledge into the dark. Glancing at the things in the dark he finally notices a cord. He pulls it and the cellar is flooded with a bright fluorescent glow. The light is harsh on his eyes and he blinks forcefully trying to hurry his eyes into focusing. They water for a moment but he can see ahead again. There's a fair amount of blood on the floor but it has all dried. Shards of glass and debris scatter the floor in and around the blood puddle and Shawn winces imagining Lassiter writhing around in it, fighting. He screws his eyes shut trying to avoid the images but it possibly only makes it worse. He tries to focus. He spots a little white capsule on the floor and picks it up. He sticks his head out from the entrance of the room. “Gus! Gus. Where are you man?” Gus shuffles through the leaves accidentally kicking some of them into the opening. “Sorry. Trying not to get leaf bits in my shoe.” He shrugs.

Shawn doesn't dignify it with a response and only holds up the pill. Before he can even ask what it is Gus has snatched it out of his hand. “Oh man. This is Eszpiclone. This is probably Lunesta though.” Shawn waits impatiently for Gus to translate it into plain english. “It's a sleeping pill. You would have to have a prescription. This one is older, probably before they cut the does in half. Lunesta is just the brand name.” Gus holds the pill gently in his hand as they make their way back to The Chief.

“Chief.” She turns on her heel with a speed that makes Shawn's head lurch. “Yes?”

“Lassiter was in the root cellar but he isn't anymore. There was a pill, I saw it in my mind and then Gus found it.” Gus gives him a sideways look but keeps mum.

“What is it mister Guster?” She looks to his palm urgently. Gus explains himself in simple terms first this time. “It's a relatively high dose sleeping pill. It requires a prescription, but it most likely won't help us track Grady.”

The chief lights up and Gus looks to Shawn with confusion. “If that pill was in the cellar than there's a sliver of a chance that Carlton is still alive.” They look at him strangely but don't say anything further.

Tuesday 3:07 AM

They'd combed over the man's whole life in the span of an hour and a half. All uniforms had been temporarily reassigned to work on Lassiter's case. They hadn't classified it out of fear they'd have to say he was presumed dead. It was wholly unprofessional but nobody is as professional as should be in personal cases. The tackboard is full of possible leads but none of them have panned out. Shawn tries to connect everything in his head but for once the loud chaos is too much. He glances all of the files and heads downstairs in the 'think tank' which was just an empty broom closet that Shawn had found when he was a kid. It was near the coroner's office and not particularly inviting. Especially since he'd floated the rumor of a woman who'd died in there when he was a kid. He presses the door shut quietly behind him and lays on the floor. There's only just space for him to do so and he stares at the ceiling, imagining the case files are written up there, rearranging. Thinking. He's solved the case but it's no longer important. He runs through it anyways just in case.

He sets it up like a laundry list on the ceiling.

Robert Grady, 47 year old male. Arrested by police officers for his obsession and subsequent stalking of Rachel Blake. Incarcerated in Wispy Sunny Pines from 2001-2005 for mental instability. Released 2005, gets a job some time after at the photo place (presumably no background check) Meets Lillian McBrae in early 2007, stalks her as well. Late 2007 he breaks into her house, she's startled and attacks him, he retaliates, killing her with a statuette she had on her shelf. Dog barks. He gets angry, murders it too.

He tries to find a place where Grady could possibly be. It dawns on him and he scrambles for the door knob. He knocks a beanie baby off the shelf and grabs it on his way out, for nostalgia's sake. He nearly knocks Woody over but the man doesn't seem to notice or care and offers Shawn a chip. When Shawn doesn't acknowledge him he shrugs and pops it into his mouth whistling on his way.

He runs up the stairs and passes the desk sergeant on his way who shouts at him to slow down. He ignores it and continues, opening the chiefs door and nearly slipping. He throws the beanie baby to Gus and blurts out. “I know where Grady could be.” He doubles over, panting hard and trying to keep what little food he has in his stomach down. “His parents had a property on a lake in Contessa, the old man made lake. No one goes out there, the house that Grady was staying at was also his parents but they bought it and then disappeared.” He breathes heavily and grasps quickly at the trashcan next to her desk. Gus shoves it into his hands and he immediately retches into it. The Chief makes a partly sympathetic partly disgusted face. Shawn pulls his head out of the metal can and thanks Chekov and Scotty that it had a bag in it. There's a line of spit dangling from his mouth and he swipes it away. McNab who witnessed the whole incident walks through the door and offers him a takeout napkin and gently removes the trashcan from his grip. Gus is thankful for him since the super smeller is not happy with the bile.

Shawn gives him a grateful look and Buzz smiles sympathetically.

“We need to start a track on the property then. We still have the resources from the earlier” She falters. “Raid so I'll re-coordinate them. Do you have the file with the location?” Shawn dashes to Juliet's desk and swipes the file from the psych evaluation. “It's not specific but he mentions the north of the Contessa lake.” Shawn raises his finger to his temple, making a disappointed face.

“I'm trying to barter with the spirits but extreme emotion often inhibits my ability.” Gus raises his eyebrow, impressed.

Tuesday 6:07 AM

Lassiter is shaken awake by a boot on his ribs. He groans and spits at the man. This action is followed by a kick to the face, this time Lassiter spits blood. The man looks down on him and laughs. “Stubborn eh.” He leans down over Lassiter and whispers. “You're going to die here detective. You had to come snooping didn't you? You were fine two years ago when you didn't find me, why come around now? You know I have no problem killing people that deserve it.” As much pain as Lassiter finds himself in he still finds himself bothered by the man's breath. He stands up and turns around and Lassiter breathes through his nose again.

“So Lillian McBrae deserved it? Is this what you did to her?” Grady spins on his heel and lands a kick to Lassiter's stomach. He's sure he sees stars. “Did you torture her with your shitty monologues too?” He laughs, baring his bloody teeth at the man a la Fight Club. He's somewhat surprised when he doesn't receive another kick. “She was supposed to love me. She turned out to be a whore. No sense of what was good for her.”

“And you did?” He figures if he's going to die he might as well know the whole truth. An accessible truth at least.

“She would've been just fine with me. I could've helped her. She left me no choice and neither did you.” Lassiter shifts to see the man better and his muscles protest. He grits his teethe and continues.

“What happened the day she died?” The man's eyes narrow at him suspiciously. “Why the hell do you ask?”

“I am going to die and I would like to know why.”

Grady does something unexpected. Unsettling. He's grinning when he meets his eyes. “Glad you've come to terms with it detective.”

“Why did she die?” Lassiter hears the exhaustion in his own voice. “She was going to love me. I went to visit her and it didn't go so well.” Lassiter cut him off. “You broke into her house.”

“That didn't matter. She saw me and screamed and tried to”

“Attack you. Because you broke into her house.”

“She didn't see it my way. I tried to explain it to her and she scratched me. She tried to run and scratched me. I grabbed that stupid little cat decoration. Tacky thing.”

What startles Lassiter the most about this is he's speaking as if he's talking about something banal like a lunch order.

“You kill her and refer to her as a whore but you took those photos of her and kept them?”

“Call me sentimental. In my head she was perfect. Sometimes I look at them and pretend she still is.”

Lassiter is left to his thoughts once again as Grady leaves. _Another day another root cellar._ In the light of the open door he sees flashes and shadows of bones. They're smaller and some of them are broken and Lassiter wants to crawl away.

Tuesday 6:32 AM

Lassiter hears the door creak open and doesn't move. He figures the man has finally decided to do away with him. He feels hands fumble over him and a knife click open, his breath hitches in his throat. He's afraid but he doesn't want to seem like it in his last moments. He wishes he could've had the courage to finalize his divorce among other things. “Oh just kill me already. If I have to listen to you wax on about bullshit I swear.”

He hears the figure above him cut the rope. “Oh Lassie I should have brought a pineapple.” He sighs with relief as the chair is righted again and one by one the ropes are cut. “Of all the people I thought I'd be relieved to see I never thought it'd be you.” He tries to stand up and immediately collapses, only to be caught by Shawn.

“Where's Grady?” Lassiter's throat is crackling but he continues. “Have you arrested him?” Shawn pulls Lassiter's arm over his shoulder and winces when he hears Lassiter make a pained noise. He grabs him by the waist slipping his finger into the belt loop on his pants to ease the weight on Lassiter's arm. “He tried to run but Vick stunned him. He's in custody now.” Lassiter slumps over with relief and Shawn has to grab him again. “Okay let's get you out of here, this place is way creepy. I think I saw a dead cat on the way in.” Lassiter raises his eyebrow unsurprised. All the things he's seen

and heard from that man, a dead cat is the least surprising thing.

Shawn hoists him up and out of the cellar with the help of Gus and a paramedic that Shawn named Bruce.

Thursday 3:05 PM

“Come on Gus. Of course he wants a pineapple smoothie.”

“Shawn. I don't think he does, I think you did.”

“ _Come on son._ why would I get two then?”

“I will never underestimate how much pineapple you could eat or drink. They could both be for you.”

“Mmm. A fair and delicious point my friend.”

He opens his eyes to the two men sitting in chairs next to him. He looks to the ceiling. “Good morning Lassie.” He draws out each syllable and Lassiter sighs.

“What are you two doing here?” Shawn purses his lips. “Aw, don't be a Lasshole man. We saved your ass. Hell we weren't even going to mention it. We were worried about you.” Lassiter moves the bed into a sitting position, wincing lightly. “We brought you a gift basket. International sign of good luck and health.”

Gus makes a face. “I'm pretty sure that's not true Shawn.”

He puts his finger up. “It is in my book.” Lassiter rolls his eyes but appreciates the gesture. He's about to say something else when his phone rings. “Sorry. It's my boss, I got too caught up and forgot to sign out. Hopefully he believes me that a friend of mine was kidnapped.” Lassiter is taken aback by the statement and of course Shawn notices. “Yeah man. We're your friends. We were all really worried about you.” He doesn't quite know what to say so he finishes off lamely with “Glad you didn't die.”

Shawn pauses. “Why did you do it though? You know protocol better than anyone. Hell I know it because I break it on the regular but I don't get it.” He pushes his hands into his pockets.

Lassiter is suddenly uncomfortable. He swallows tightly. “I uh.” He starts fiddling with a ring that's no longer on his finger and it dawns on Shawn. “You hit a benchmark and decided to endanger your life.” Shawn hops up and down for a second, frustrated. “Why. Would. You. Do. That?” He breathes in, holding it for a second, letting it go. “I don't know. I just wanted a win.”

Shawn decides to let it go, at least for now. He leans against the windowsill. “Whatever man just. Next time tell someone, anyone. You could of gotten yourself killed.” He amends his statement slightly. “And don't tell me I do it all the time that is a distinct me thing. Gus says it's because I have no plan for the future. I beg to differ.”

He looks over at the window and finally notices the gift basket. It's ostentatious but not necessarily unwelcome. The whole basket (minus the actual basket) is pineapple themed and overly large. “I brought it yesterday because they said it was likely you'd wake up then but uh.” Shawn looks to the basket. “Oh and I arranged it nicely but hospital security thought I was smuggling something and tossed it. Oh oh here is this.” He reaches over to the window and grabs something out of the basket. “And this.” He reaches into his back pocket, ramping up the theatrics before dropping the notebook onto the bed beside him. The pen is held against the notebook with the band and he swears he sees a small smile on Lassiter's face. 

“I made these myself so please at least try one before you throw them away.” He turns the bag in his hands for a second before pulling out a slightly burned fortune cookie. He hands him the burned cookie before handing him the bag. “Please at least try it. I worked in a chinese restaurant with this great guy. Mr. Shinoki, he taught me how to make these uh great cookies. I've got to. Go. That nurse Silvia really doesn't like me since I broke my leg once and uh let's just say you shouldn't discharge yourself and then get hit by another car.” He salutes Carlton and leaves breaking out into a run down the hall. He hears a woman yell after him.

Lassiter breaks open the first cookie and pulls the fortune out. _**These are harder to make than I had remembered.**_ He takes a bite out of the cookie and it's definitely better than he thought it'd be, although he doubts he'll ever mention it to Spencer. The woman stops yelling as she approaches Lassiter's room. “I swear. That man is a pain in my ass. He should get a punch card for four times injured fifth time free.” Lassiter chuckles and regrets it as he doubles over. “Take it easy. You have quite the sheet.” She whistles softly as she checks his IV. She stops as she notices the basket in the window. “So you were the friend. Interesting. He was worried about you. They all were, the others I mean. They came at different times but they all wanted to know if you were alright, some more subtle than others. You really do have good friends.” 

Lassiter mulls it over for a second. “I guess I do.”


End file.
